Stupidly Innocent
by Gurrbill
Summary: In which Castiel somehow gets involved with sex. He doesn't understand at all - and neither does Dean, apparently. Destiel. Rated M.


**Stupidly Innocent**

**In which Castiel somehow gets involved with sex. He doesn't understand at all - and neither does Dean, apparently.**

**Pairing: Destiel**

**Rating: M**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"I wonder how it feels."

The statement had been innocent enough. Dean hadn't even bothered glance up from the burger he was chewing on to look at the angel to find out what he'd meant.

Of course, it was Sam who just _had _to bite. Sam, who had to start it all. Curiosity was gonna kill that kid one day, Dean was sure of it.

"How what feels, Cas?" The younger Winchester had said, pulling on his socks as he spoke. The angel turned to face him with a blank expression, dead serious.

"Sexual intercourse."

The bluntness of the answer made Dean choke on his own food.

_What?!_

Did he just...? Really...?

_What the hell?_

"Cas," he got out eventually, after he'd stopped choking on his mouthful of burger. Sam was giggling on his bed like the giant girl he was, loving every minute of Dean's suffering. Bastard, "You don't... You can't just talk about those sort of things like - like-"

Cas was looking up at him through his bangs from across the table, genuinely curious as to what Dean had to offer to the conversation. When Dean didn't finish, Cas tilted his head in that 'oh look at me, all innocent with my big blue puppy dog eyes and floppy hair' kind of way. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Like what, Dean?" He asked, "You're more open about sex than most humans I've met."

The younger Winchester snorted from across the room. Dean glared. Looked like Sammy was getting itching powder in his clothes next time he had a shower.

Giving up, Dean took another bite of his burger, taking a moment to flap the sandwich at the angel from where he was sat, trying to add emphasis to what he was saying; to get it through to that stupidly innocent angelic head.

"Just... Don't bring it up like that. Ever." Dean warned, "Okay?"

Cas merely nodded

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The next time sex was brought up in a situation was months later, and in a much different context.

By different context, well...

Dean was a man. Obviously.

Dean had needs, like any other man. Obviously.

Women had been pretty damn scarce for the past month, and he was gonna go nuts if he didn't do _something _soon.

And Sam hadn't been in.

But his laptop had.

So, naturally, the hunter had drawn the mottled hotel curtains, sat himself down on his bed and... treated himself.

What he hadn't been relying on, however, was for the fucking angel to pop up right in the _goddamn middle of everything. _

He'd just fluttered up in the corner of the room like he owned the place. Dean hadn't even noticed he was there until he'd loudly asked what he was doing.

The snarky voice that usually resided within Dean's mind had automatically come up with, _"Oh you know, just palming my hard-on through my jeans, no biggie or anything."_

Of course, his actual reaction had been slamming the laptop lid shut so hard that the screen broke. Cas had seen the sense to vanish then, and the only problem Dean had faced later that day was when Sam had opened his laptop to find half the screen missing.

He still hasn't forgiven Dean.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The third time was when the scale had started to tip, the proverbial grain of rice causing an avalanche of confusion to crash down around his ears .

_"Dean..."_

_The low voice was rough underneath him, wanting - needy. Waiting. For _him_. Dean growled. _

_"Little whore for it, aren't you?" He rutted against the warm form below him, surrounded in a hot, amazingly tight feeling. He was drowning in it, drowning in the heat of another, "You're a whore for me, huh? You want it so fucking _bad_, don't you?"_

_The other nodded mutely, crying out when Dean jutted forwards, burying himself completely. His every sense was acclimatised - he needed release. He needed it _now_._

_"Scream my name," he demanded. The other trembled, hips driving backwards, unruly black hair rustling as his head dipped between his shoulders, dragging in ragged breaths. Dean hissed through his teeth, his aching cock throbbing as that hot feeling clenched around him, thick and heavy. _

_"Scream my fucking __**name**__." He ordered again when he didn't hear a sound, his tone dark. _

_He jerked his hips punishingly, thrusting hard into that hotness. It was filling him up, licking along his insides like molten lava. Unrelenting and blissfully never-ending. _

_"Dean..." The wrecked voice called loudly, sending spikes of pleasure pulsing through the hunter's veins, "Dean...!"_

_"Dean!"_

"Dean!"

With a muffled snort, the hunter jerked awake on his pillow, two facts hitting him like buckets of icy water almost immediately.

1. Sam was waking him up early, the son of a bitch.

2. He was sporting a hard-on to rock the ages.

He had to bite his tongue to stop a moan from escaping his throat as he moved. Stupidly, he'd fallen asleep with his jeans on; his erection was pressing tightly against his zipper, uncomfortable in the prison of denim it was held in. If he so much as stood up, he knew he'd be spilling in his pants like a fucking teenager within seconds.

Through some brilliant miracle, he managed to turn his head on the pillow without moving his hips at all, his eyes squinting to meet Sam's concerned face; all drawn eyebrows and pressed lips. Bitchface No.9. Hadn't seen that one in a while.

"...You okay?" He asked, inclining his head, "Nightmare?"

_Far from it. _

Dean shook his head, using his sleep-ridden voice to his advantage.

"Why... would you think... it was a nightmare?" He gritted out unevenly, the one tiny part of him that wasn't awake or horny still trying to argue with his brother as much as it possibly could. He still needed to retain _some _sanity, at least - and disagreeing with Sam was about as sane as he could get in this messed up life.

Sam's eyebrows nearly shot up in to his hairline at his brother's question.

"It's just..." Sam's gaze darted around a little, unable to look Dean in the eye, "You were sorta... Uh..."

"What? I was what?" Dean asked irritably, trying to control his breathing. The bathroom door was on his side of the room by some stroke of fate, and he needed to get there right the fuck _now_. If Sam would just stop talking for five seconds...

His brother caught his gaze.

"You were sort of... Calling out Cas' name. A lot." He deadpanned. Dean's neck heated, eyes widening.

No. No, that couldn't be right.

Cas was an angel. An angel in a guy's body, nonetheless. He was for, about and always wanting women. Curvy women, pretty women, stupid women. It didn't matter - as long as they had something feminine that he could appreciate about them, it was good enough for Dean.

He did _not _have wet dreams about angels. And certainly not about black-haired, socially awkward, nerdy ones.

"I... I wasn't." He protested lamely, taking his time in sitting up. He had to turn away to let out a minuscule gasp as the pressure on his dick increased. Bathroom. _Now_. "Shut up, Sam."

With that, he shot in to the bathroom as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him, hoping to dear God that Sam didn't notice the slight waddle in his steps.

He didn't come out for a while.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He wasn't gay. He wasn't. He couldn't be.

He'd been straight as a pole since, well... forever. Hell, he'd stolen his first Busty Asian porno mag when he was, what? Fifteen years old? How was that gay?

Dean Winchester was not gay. Nope. Not at all. Not even bisexual - he was one-hundred percent straight.

Dean Winchester's body disagreed with him, however.

Those... _dreams _persisted resiliently over the next month, getting more and more intense each night. More vivid than any he'd ever had. Sometimes he'd wake up halfway through a mind-blowing orgasm, biting down on his pillow so that he didn't run the chance of waking Sam up and giving him blackmail material to last him for years.

By the fourth week, he'd had Cas six ways from Sunday in his head; up against doors and walls, on motel beds, _beside _motel beds, in the shower and even on a _beach _at one point. But that wasn't even the worst thing.

While it was rare (thank God) Cas would sometimes be the one to have _him _instead. Him against a wall, or in a shower, or on a bed.

And, more often than not, _those _were the dreams where he'd wake up coming. Those were the dreams he found himself thinking about during the day. Those were the dreams that aroused him no matter where he was, or who he was with. Always, without fail.

It was like his subconscious was waving a flag at him from afar and yelling cheerfully, _"Hey, Dean, not only are you gay, but you're also the sub! Have fun with that."_

He couldn't deal with it. He hadn't slept with a woman in days - they just didn't spike his interest anymore.

Fucking angels. Fucking angels and they're sexually confusing tactics.

His hands ran tiredly through his hair, a sigh falling from his mouth. Why him? Why was it _always _him?

A click and creak sounded through the room, breaking him away from his thoughts. The familiar tap of Sam's gargantuan shoes hitting the floor was loud in Dean's stressed head.

Couldn't he just be left alone for _five minutes?_

"Whoa," Sam said lowly as he settled the grocery bags he was holding down on his bed, "What's wrong with you?"

Dean glared up from underneath his hand.

"Didn't get much sleep." He lied easily, thumbs rubbing circles into his eyelids.

"Uh-huh. I've seen you go on two hours just fine - you think I'm gonna believe that?"

Like the calm before the storm, Dean could feel an argument brewing.

"Sam, leave it-"

"No," Sam interrupted defiantly, jaw clenching as he straightened to his fullest height, nostrils flared. Dammit, why'd he have to be right about the argument thing? "No, Dean. This... whatever it is - it's been eating at you for weeks. I'm getting sick of it."

"There's always something eating at me, Sam," Dean countered. Little brothers - whoever thought they were a joy to have around should be kicked off the planet, "We just ignore it. I ignore it. Bobby ignores it, everyone ignores it - maybe you should too."

The sasquatch glared a little longer, crossing his arms defensively. An uncomfortable silence settled over them as Dean broke his brother's gaze, the cheaply carpeted floor suddenly becoming a lot more interesting than it had been a moment before.

"...This is about Cas, isn't it?"

Oh no. No. He was absolutely _not _going there.

"Sam-" He warned loudly.

"It _is!_" The younger Winchester grinned triumphantly, "This is about Cas and you don't want to admit it."

"This isn't about Cas." Dean argued, feeling the lie burn his tongue. Hell no. They were not gonna do this. They weren't gonna have some crappy, sharing-and-caring intervention. They just _weren't_. Especially not about friggin' _Cas_.

"Oh, you think I haven't heard?"

Crap.

If Dean had hackles, they'd be raising.

Sam wasn't really talking about what he thought he was talking about... was he?

He dared a glance up to find Sam wearing that stupid victorious expression - the one when he knew he was right, and he knew that Dean knew as well.

_Shit_.

When he remained silent, Sam just ploughed on, his motor mouth getting in its stride.

"Every night -every _single _night - I hear you calling his name, Dean. It's getting out of hand."

"Just nightmares, Sam, everybody gets them-"

"'_Nightmares'?_" Sam spat incredulously. Frustration was radiating from him so pungently that it was actually kind of scary, "Some of the happy noises you were making definitely don't belong in '_nightmares'_."

Okay. That's it. Dean was done.

He threw his hands in the air as he stood, snatching up his jacket from the end of his bed and shoving it on.

"Where are you going?"

_God _he was gonna punch that kid.

"Out." He snapped with an edge to his tone, slamming the motel door shut behind him as hard as he could. The wall shook, and he was sure he almost heard the exasperated sigh that Sam was probably giving that very second as he stormed to his car.

Little brothers. They think they know fucking _everything_.

No, it wasn't about Cas - well, it was kinda about him - but not really. The dreams weren't a huge problem either. Hell, if he got really honest - dug deep enough to see all the crap he'd truly tried to bury over the years - it wasn't even about his wavering, balancing-on-a-knife-edge sexuality. He'd taken a second glance at a couple guys over the years - it was only natural.

No, the real problem was about not knowing.

He didn't know what this angel was doing to him. He didn't know why any of this crap was affecting him so badly. He didn't know if what he felt for the angel was just lust or... something more.

Not knowing was one of his greatest fears. Fumbling around in the dark with no idea what he should be doing. With hunting, there was always something to kill; people to save. When picking up girls at a bar, there was always one goal; get laid, don't get attached.

But with Cas... He didn't know what he wanted. It didn't feel right to want to do these things to the angel - didn't feel right to want to kiss him or to hold him tight or to fuck him hard. There was no solid goal, no black and white picture - just confusion and a crap-load of frustration.

He was breathing heavy as he sat behind the wheel of his Impala, absently stroking a hand across the dash, relishing the familiar feel of the rumbling engine beneath his feet. At least his baby would always be there to give him something to hold onto.

He drove for a long time, not allowing his thoughts to drift. He just let the road guide him, the rolling tongue of asphalt putting his head at ease._ Drive, steer, brake. Don't look back. Don't think. Just drive. _

It was about one in the morning when he checked into a different hotel. He was somewhere in Indiana, he knew, but the road signs had blurred as he'd driven past them, eyes unfocused. He hadn't understood a single word. Not that he'd actually tried.

Dropping his coat on the door hook in his room, he drew the latches, shut the curtains and fell onto the bed with a loud thump, a comforting silence filling the air.

Screw the world. He was going to sleep. If he had another dream, who cared? Sam wasn't there to bug him about it and there wasn't anyone in the surrounding rooms - none that he could hear, anyway.

The world could just fuck off for a while.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_"Fucking hell..."_ -_another slide of wet lips had him biting the inside of his cheek, a strangled moan ripping from his throat- "Cas...!"_

_The hands on his thighs tightened, pushing him back against the wall, leaving bruises where they held him firmly. Dean tried to buck forwards, but all in vain; Cas was far stronger than he looked. _

_He let out a groan when he felt the slick tip of Cas' tongue glide up the underside of his cock, dragging his top lip down and across Dean's slit like he'd been _made _to do it. His head bobbed, pumping him slowly at first, then faster, cheeks hollowed, those pretty pink lips stretched wide as they travelled over Dean's length again and again. _

_The hunter's fingers wound themselves in that black mess of hair, tugging the other's head back and forth, his cock hitting the back of the angel's throat almost every time. Cas didn't even hesitate, the hand in his hair doing nothing to stop his pace. He brought Dean to the very edge, one of his hands stroking up his side to flick a nipple with his thumb. Dean threw his head back, calling out Cas' name as his hips gave a warning stutter, muscles quivering._

_"Cas - I can't -" he gave up on speech completely, white pulsing at the edge of his vision. Flames were coiling in his stomach, shooting through his nerves in waves. Cas paused in his movements, his lips barely pressed against the head of Dean's cock, blue eyes flashing up at him. _

_Then he smirked. _Smirked_. _

_In one final movement, he sank all the way down, swallowing everything Dean had to offer. And that's when he hummed. _

_Actually. Fucking. Hummed. _

_The hunter rasped out the angel's name one last time, before everything went blank, the sheer force of his orgasm ripping through his body like thorns through flesh. It was too warm, too wet, too electrifying, too-_

He woke with a shout, stomach muscles clenching so hard that he nearly shot off the bed, an unmistakeable wet feeling sticking thickly to his groin.

"_Fuck_."

Again? For God's sake, _why_?

Annoyed, he limped to the bathroom to clean himself up for what felt like the thousandth time that month. He'd gotten so used to the routine that he was done within five minutes, fresh pair of jeans clinging to his hips as he sat back on the bed, running a hand through his hair.

This had to stop. This whole thing had to end or he'd -

"Hello Dean."

He nearly fell to the floor for the second time that morning when the strikingly familiar voice sounded behind him. His head snapped around so quickly he swore he'd get whiplash.

Of course the angel was stood across the bed from him, trenchcoat slightly skew-whiff, black hair ruffled. Just minutes ago Dean had had his hand wound tightly in that shock of hair, forcing the angel's head to and fro...

The thought sent a flare of heat searing through his gut. He made sure a well-placed pillow landed on his lap a moment later as he turned to face the angel, trying to act like his normal, grumpy, post-sleep self.

"How d'you find me, Cas?" He asked testily, still trying to shake the image of the angel clutching at his thighs, lips wet around him. His cock gave an appreciative twitch at the thought, and he had to gnaw his lip to prevent any sounds from tearing out of his throat.

Cas' brows drew together.

"You keep... calling to me, Dean. During the night, mostly. It's surprisingly easy to find you when you're yelling my name." he said, confusion lighting up his face. Poor guy actually seemed worried, "That's why I'm here - I wanted to ask you if you're suffering from... nightmares, as of late."

Dean scoffed. Yeah. _Nightmares_.

"Did Sam put you up to this?" He asked brazenly. Cas continued to stare.

"No, why would Sam-"

"Then read my mind," he ordered. He was tired of this back and forth, tired of questioning his own feelings. He wanted the levee to break, and at what better time could there be than now?

Cas looked at him from across the room, concerned.

"Read your mind?" He questioned; seemed that was all he was doing today, "Dean I don't-"

"Just do it. You tell me what you see, and you tell me if that's normal. Because I know it sure as hell isn't." Dean spat out, locking eyes with the angel, "I can't do it. I don't know what my own body wants anymore and I can't do anything about it. So go ahead. Read it."

Cas opened his mouth to protest, but Dean's glare halted him in his tracks. The angel sighed, exasperatedly giving in, a focussed expression crossing his features.

It took a few seconds before Cas' eyes widened, a pinkish hue spreading over his cheeks.

"I didn't... Dean, I don't..." He said numbly, pink tongue darting out to lick across his bottom lip. Dean followed the sliver of movement, his pulse racing. That same tongue had just been licking its way up -

_No. Not now, _he reprimanded himself harshly. His hormones were taking the reins, he was sure of it - he was already half hard and he'd barely even thought about anything. Damn it. Damn it all.

"Yeah, well, neither do I." Dean mumbled, refusing to face Cas any longer. This whole thing was awkward enough, let alone with added eye contact, "I don't understand."

Dean could hear the faint swish of the angel's trenchcoat when he moved, and soon he felt the mattress dip when Cas sat next to him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, the movement slightly stilted. Dean looked up, Cas' face inches from his own.

"...Still haven't got the memo on personal space, huh?" He asked weakly, barely managing a grin. Cas stayed silent, gaze searching.

"...I wouldn't mind."

Dean's heart stopped in his chest, and he swore he was going in to shock or something because people's hearts don't just _stop_.

"What?" He squeaked. A small smile pulled at Cas' lips.

"Those dreams," he clarified, "They aren't... _wrong_, Dean. Love manifests itself in many different ways - and by no means is love _wrong_."

"You sound like a fortune cookie."

"I wasn't aware that cookies spoke."

Dean snorted. "It's still not normal. I'm... _halosexual._" He gritted out, "You know how weird that is for a guy like me, right?"

Cas looked down at the floor, his fingers still gripping the human's shoulder tightly, "If humanity has taught me one thing - aside from the fact that freedom is more a burden than a gift - it's that diversity is often trampled on," the angel paused, lips pressed together, trying to choose his next words carefully, "Diversity of sexuality is completely 'normal' - it's just..." He turned his face again, catching Dean by surprise with the softness that resided in those blue orbs, "...different."

Dean stared - what else could he do? The hand on his shoulder felt like it was burning through his clothes, fiery against his skin - blood was rushing in his ears and he could feel his heart in his throat. He thought his is head was going into a seizure.

He felt his arm move of it's own accord, guiding his hand to cup the angel's face. Every fibre was screaming at him, telling him that this was all wrong, that no, he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be _thinking _about doing this-

Then Cas just had to go and lean into his touch, and the hunter no longer cared. Self-restraint flew out the window. His spare hand fisted in the lapels of that ridiculous tan trenchcoat, yanking the other towards him, slamming their lips together with all the force of a bullet train. It was rough, and messy, but it didn't matter - Cas still gasped when Dean's tongue swiped across his bottom lip, the sensation new and wonderfully good. Better than any fucking _dream_, that was for sure.

He sought Cas impatiently, bringing the angel's form closer, his body giving in to every want it'd had for the past month. Oh, hell, he knew it was longer than month. He'd always known that there was something he needed from Cas. Something of necessity - beaten in importance perhaps only by breathing, or sleeping.

It just took a month of sexual frustration to figure it out.

He tore the trenchcoat off, his hands sliding underneath the material and shoving it aimlessly to the floor with ease. The tie nearly ripped in half as he took that off too, coaxing the angel backwards onto the bed with a firm press of his chest. One of Cas' knees rose up, very nearly hooking itself completely around Dean's thigh, their hips meeting as they fell roughly onto the sheets.

He took Cas' bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly whilst one hand pushed up the angel's shirt to brush the heated skin underneath. Cas had a hand on the back of his head, clutching at the short hair there while the other snaked it's way over Dean's bicep, scratching his nails across solid muscle.

He nearly lost it when Cas' actually _moaned _into the kiss, pressing his lips hungrily against Dean's, fighting for more contact. Heat raged through the hunter's nerves, and an urgency he didn't understand made itself known, blaring loud, red like a warning.

He wanted Cas. Badly. And in every way possible.

Pulling away, he fought for breath. Cas didn't wait for him; he carded his hand through Dean's hair, leaning up to suckle on a spot by the hunter's jugular, scraping his teeth against his skin. Dean groaned, feeling unbearably lightheaded - where the fuck had Cas learnt to do _that_?

Not that it mattered - all that mattered right now was that Cas was doing these things to his body, willingly and fucking _expertly_, and Dean couldn't think straight; the scent of sex was beginning to ebb in to the room, heady and almost tangible, attacking his senses and turning his thoughts to syrup. Like alcohol. Except with more guy-on-guy action.

Instinctively, he kissed back, harder this time, his breath catching when he realised that the firm line he felt against his thigh was Cas' length. _Well_.

He pulled away, partly for breath, partly from panic because Cas was an angel in a man's body and he had no idea how to do deal with any of this-

"Dean...?" Cas' quiet voice snapped him out of it. He was looking up at him through his lashes, eyes glazed, watching the hunter as though he were an art piece - beautiful, made to be looked upon; revered. His chest was heaving - Dean himself was no better off, dragging in air through shallow huffs, whilst his hand absently rubbed small circles on Cas' chest.

He swallowed, a nauseating mix of want and confusion tearing through his head and weaving through his sinews, every cell ablaze. He shouldn't be doing this - shouldn't be feeling this. Shouldn't have butterflies the size of jetplanes fluttering around in his stomach. And he felt like a friggin' novice. At _sex_.

_The world's gone crazy. _

"...Cas?" He began tentatively, his voice raspy. The angel had such an _affect _on him, "Are you... you know? Sure? About this?"

God, did he feel like a girl. Asking permission was one thing, but asking permission with the softest tone of voice known to man was even worse.

In his own way of answering, Cas smiled, glancing down over the hunter's chest before coming to clash with Dean's eyes, gaze like steel; solid - unwavering. That was all the permission he needed.

Swiftly, he leant downwards, latching onto Cas' pulse point, stubble prickling his cheek, sending goosebumps erupting across his skin. Cas arched up into him as his tongue darted out to leave a slick trail down the angel's neck, panting out Dean's name in broken whispers while his hands roved over the human's clothed shoulders. Dean didn't stop himself from rutting against Cas' thigh, burying his face in the other's shoulder, hissing out the angel's name. It wasn't right but it was and oh, fuck it, he needed this.

His jeans were pressing against him again, the feeling all-too familiar - night after night he'd woken up with the tight material restricting him, making him wish that his dreams had been real; that it hadn't just been all in his head. That he'd really had Cas beneath him, waiting - yearning - for Dean's touch.

Cas' eyes snapped wide open when Dean nuzzled further upwards, teeth running over the lobe of the angel's ear. He let out a moan that - in Dean's opinion - should've been downright _illegal, _the grip on the hunter's shoulders turning into one of iron.

He couldn't take much more of this. This angel was driving him steadily insane.

"Cas..." He gritted out, voice rough as it wound itself into Cas' ear. A great shiver travelled through the angel's body, his hips driving upwards of their own accord, slotting up next to Dean and holy _shit _he needed his jeans off right the fuck _now_.

He held himself up with a hand, whilst the other stayed underneath Cas' shirt, straying upwards to roll the nub of a hardening nipple between his fingers. It just seemed the right thing to do - and _Jesus _did it work. The lips on his neck broke away with a strangled cry of Dean's name, Cas' nails clawing the greying fabric clinging tightly to his shoulders almost painfully. The rush of air beside Dean's ear told him that he'd _definitely _done the right thing.

Hands that weren't his own had began travelling down his shoulders and over his stomach, before tugging on his t-shirt, urging him to take it off. Dean felt torn - he'd have to move to take it off. He didn't wanna move. Moving meant less Cas and more cold.

Unwillingly, he leant up; Cas' palms took the chance almost immediately, skirting up his abs and pushing the material up over his head. Darkness clouded his vision for a moment, heightening the feeling of someone else's body against his, and it was only in those few seconds did it truly hit him.

This was _Cas _he was doing this with - Cas who was ripping his shirt off like a wild animal. Cas who kept breathing out his name like a prayer.

And it didn't even frighten him.

Oh God. He was gay for an angel.

Surely that was some kind of sin, right?

The darkness was gone a second later, and Dean could see again. He gazed down at the hands on his stomach, following the angel's arms down to his face. He was breathing heavy, his cheeks flushed, eyes shining. More affected than Dean was. It was almost like revenge, in a twisted sense. Dreams of the angel had been driving him crazy for more than a month - now it was Cas' time to feel the burn.

A smirk stretched his lips, "Your turn."

Cas tilted his head, confused. Dean's grin widened.

This was gonna be _fun._

Before Cas had a chance to question him, he'd hooked his thumbs underneath the angel's belt, the leather feeling absurdly out of place as it slid over his digits. He made quick work of the buckle, fingers feverishly undoing the zipper beneath.

"Dean - what -" the angel broke off, crying out when Dean gripped him hard through his boxers, hips canting upwards desperately, nails clawing at Dean's skin. He didn't even have time to draw breath; Dean was already tugging down the thin layer of fabric, purposely pulling the elastic taut over head of his cock.

The sounds Cas made then... There weren't words to describe them. All Dean knew was that he wanted to hear more of them, deep and ragged, over and over.

Determined, he dragged the line of Cas' boxers down further, relentlessly keeping the pressure on. He wanted to drag this out as long as possible - to take Cas to the very edge and then bring him back again. He wanted to leave the angel a moaning wreck beneath him. Because, dammit, that's what he'd wanted to do for what felt like years.

Frantically, the hands on Dean's stomach scratched around to the small of his back, starting to push - attempting to will Dean's mouth back down to him. A silent plea. Dean smirked.

"Doesn't work like that, angel," the nickname slipped from his mouth before he could think twice, but Cas didn't seem to notice; he was still incessantly pushing, breathless, "You gotta wait it out first."

He stilled for a few seconds, unmoving, even when Cas' writhing became more insistent, "Dean, _now...!"_

Pause_. _

_"_Dean _please..._"

His name being called like that... Persuaded him. Eventually.

With a sharp movement, he yanked Cas' boxers all the way off. Skin slapped against skin as the other's cock hit his abs, lying thick and dark against his stomach. Relief overcame Cas' face so quickly that Dean felt a bubble of laughter pop in his chest. Sex was a whole new thing to the angel, so it only made sense.

Still... didn't mean it wasn't funny as hell.

Crashing his hands on either side of Cas' head, he leant down, licking a trail down the slanted ridge of collar bone, peppering the angel's skin with tiny nicks and kisses; Cas didn't know how to cope, one hand scrabbling for purchase as it dug into Dean's back whilst the other slid downwards the clutch the curve of his ass, tightening its hold on the denim still covering it.

Teasing his way down Cas' chest, he made sure to leave the angel hanging, attending everywhere but the place Cas wanted his tongue the most. He'd said that he was gonna drag this out - and Dean Winchester was a man who kept his promises.

"Dean..." Cas' hips snapped upwards when the hunter's teeth scraped deftly over a nipple, eyes wide, "_Dean...!"_

"Gonna make you want it, Cas," Dean murmured darkly against the angel's hot skin, his own dick throbbing in response to the angel's voice. He was so hard it hurt, "Been waiting for this for a long time."

"I don't... _Dean..._" Cas could barely speak, the hands resting on Dean's back sliding around to follow the line of his jeans, thumb pressing insistently against the catch. Dean's lips broke away from the angel's skin, hissing out a strained string of curses through gritted teeth - Cas wasn't supposed to know how to _do_ these things...! "Need... you too..."

Those nimble fingers were working quickly on his jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper so sharply that Dean was sure he'd come then and there. Forehead pressed against Cas' chest, he tried to bring himself back under control - God forbid he embarrass himself by spilling over before Cas did. He'd never be able to live that one down.

Cas had already began to drag down Dean's last pieces of clothing, his thumbs sweeping over the curves of Dean's hipbones in unison - it felt rough, but Dean didn't care. It brought everything to life - made the world disappear around them, leaving them on an island. Touch, taste, noise - that was all that Dean could feel and it was just _perfect_.

Trying his best to ignore the angel's busy hands, he knelt up again, the hands clasping his jeans unwavering as they continued their work.

In a move that was strangely quick, Dean snatched up Cas' wrists, leaning down to pin them either side of the angel's head - their noses brushed together, sharing breath, and Dean swore he could feel the tips of the angel's eyelashes on his cheekbones as he blinked. Cas himself looked visibly betrayed.

"Wait for it, angel," he warned quietly, leaving a kiss on the corner of Cas' mouth; his lips tingled, "I told you to wait it _out_."

On the last word, he jerked forwards, his entire body rolling with the movement as he pressed his lips against the angel's once more, swallowing the gasp that Cas let out when their hips bucked together. He was still pinned to the mattress, his hands balling into fists where they were being held above his shoulders as he threw his head back, breaking the kiss.

"_Dean…!_ I -" Cas panted out brokenly, driving himself further up into the hunter, his body flush against Dean's.

Holy shit, he wouldn't be able to take much more of this. He'd bitten off way more than he could chew, and now he was paying the price. Finally, he had Cas pliant and begging beneath him and he didn't think that he'd be able to manage it for much longer.

This _definitely_ wasn't doing his libido any favours.

Cas' legs had fully tangled with Dean's, hooking around his thighs and straining to pull him closer – he was pushing himself into the hunter and fucking _hell…!_

Almost viscerally, he jutted forwards, his body dying for more contact – he needed it. The fucking angel was hot and wanting underneath him and all he wanted to do was to make Cas beg, to make him feel as desperate as Dean did right that second.

Shocks of pleasure were exploding, white-hot, across his every nerve – it was too much. It was hot, cold, too fast and too slow. Everything seemed frozen, yet it moved too quickly. His brain was gradually turning to mush. He couldn't keep up – couldn't process Cas' wanton pleas, couldn't understand the heat he felt against him, or the brief touch of lips hitting his jawline clumsily.

It was this slow-spreading numbness that somehow gave Cas the upper hand. Before Dean knew it, he was on his back and Cas was straddling him, dragging his palms lazily over his neck and shoulders. His hips were moving erratically, rutting against Dean and making all these pretty little sounds that were just _amazing_. The hunter could feel every touch on his skin like lightning; sudden and delicious and _fiery_. Blindly, he reached out, one hand holding the angel's thigh whilst the other came down to grip the other's cock tight, reducing Cas to a trembling heap.

"Say... say my name - _ah!_"

He wouldn't have believed that the angel's voice could get any lower than it already was, but he was proved wrong yet again. Cas' tone was coarse, almost harsh on his ears. And _demanding_.

"Cas..." Dean managed, a slight tremble in his voice as he pushed Cas closer to the edge, his hand moving faster with every passing second. The air between them was thick as their bodies rolled together, coaxing another stifled groan of the hunter's name from Cas'' mouth - Jesus, that was hot. Dean's stomach was clenching, muscles coiling tightly, each tiny bit of friction sending a wave of _something _to his brain - so fucking _close_...

"My... my whole name, Dean... Dean _please.._."

The same white from his dreams had started to edge at his vision; except this time it was _real _- real and simmering just below the surface, threatening to bubble over at any second. Cas' forehead sunk down to rest on Dean's collar bone, bucking into his fist over and over. Dean pulled the angel closer with his spare hand, nails digging into Cas' skin as the angel rocked atop him. He knew his boxers needed to be off if he didn't want to make a mess, but he just didn't care anymore.

"Please..." Cas begged again, his breath hot on Dean's chest, "Just - _Dean...!_"

Dean reached up, skittering over the angel's back to fist his hand in that shock of black hair, whilst the other gave one last firm stroke.

"_Castiel._" He breathed, the final amount of friction sending the angel soaring into oblivion.

The atmosphere around them crackled - and not in the metaphorical bullshit way either. Actually _crackled_; the light bulbs in the lamps shattered, the bedsheets billowed from some invisible wind and a wave of energy hit Dean so hard that he could barely hear the cry of his name rip it's way out of the angel's mouth as he came over Dean's hand.

His eyes screwed shut, the sound of Cas' voice making him spill over with a strangled moan, bolts of what he was sure to be lightning firing through his gut and tensing his muscles tight - blankness enveloped him, white noise buzzing in his ears and suddenly he was free. Flying above clouds and over mountains and he didn't care that he shouldn't be flying because why would he be in the sky if he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place?

It was oddly still for what felt like years. Not the slow dragging kind of 'years', though - more the kind that you never wanted to end. The kind that were filled with some form of unameable wholeness that just made him feel... _complete_. Wrung with lust and happiness and love and all those other sappy things. And he adored every second. Or year. He wasn't quite sure anymore.

He came back to himself a minute (or possibly an entire week - it was hard to tell) later, eyes dazed as they stared blankly up at the ceiling. It took a much more than a moment to register that A) that hadn't been a dream and B) the warmness pressed against him wasn't a blanket - it was an angel. A spent, floppy-limbed angel who was probably as blissed out as Dean was right now and feeling like the exact equivalent of jello. Dean's hand was still wound in Cas' hair, absently gliding the black strands through his fingers as he basked in the pleasant afterglow warming its way through his body. Briefly, he wiped his hand on the motel sheets - they wouldn't notice another stain.

"...Cas?" He said eventually, voice hoarse, "You with me?"

"Mmmm." Was the only response. Dean grinned.

"That..." He mumbled lowly, eyes flickering shut, "...That was actually awesome."

"I fear we may have woken the other residents."

Dean laughed. It was probably true.

"Well," he murmured, craning his neck to leave a kiss in the angel's hair, "You are pretty loud."

Cas' way of responding was by snuggling closer, his arm folding as his hand came to rest, splayed, on Dean's chest. It didn't feel stilted at all this time. Only comforting.

"...Did, uh..." Dean began, feeling his neck heat up, "Did you... you know... enjoy it too?"

Dean almost _heard _the grin - he could even feel the angel's lips quirk where they were pressed against his skin. Smug bastard.

"It was enjoyable."

Oh come _on_. Surely it was better than that? Not even a 'memorable' or 'wow Dean that was amazing let's do it again'?

Dean shifted slightly on the bedsheets, wincing as he felt the fabric of his underwear slide uncomfortably against his crotch. He'd need to change into yet _another_ pair of jeans and boxers. That'd be the fifth set in two days. They didn't do laundry for another day or so, goddammit.

"I need a shower." He admitted. He didn't want to move, and neither did Cas - the angel just held him tighter.

"No. I'm comfortable."

"Okay, your highness," Dean smirked, beginning to pull away, "How 'bout you join me and we'll call it even?"

Dean didn't think he'd ever been dragged to a bathroom so fast before.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sam's reaction was _priceless._

Dean really, _really _wished he'd had a video recorder or something because that was a face you just _had _to catch on camera. Just a shame that he'd fucked up his timing so tremendously.

After his and Cas' shower (for a shower, there hadn't actually been that much cleaning involved), he'd packed up his stuff and chucked it in the back-seat of the Impala and - after making a quick trip down to the nearest laundry matt - began to make his way back to Illinois, where Sam was still undoubtedly stewing in his own juices.

The drive back didn't take as long with Cas in the front seat - at least, it didn't feel as long. While Cas could've easily gone ahead, what with his feathers and the knowledge of Sam's location, he didn't. He stayed loyally by Dean's side, gradually leaning into the hunter until he was resting his head on Dean's shoulder, falling asleep somewhere over the state line. Though it was a little difficult to drive with one hand, Dean still managed to wrap an arm around the angel's waist, pulling him close. It was strange really - Cas didn't even need to sleep, but he did anyway, his quiet snores still filling the car as it rumbled to a halt outside the Sun Dance motel hours after he'd closed his eyes.

Dean turned the key in the ignition, and the engine gunned once more before it stopped dead, a thick silence taking its place. The sky was dark, the glaring light of the lamppost outside flooding the leather seats in a stark orange glow. Cas had melted lower in his sleep, his head resting on Dean's chest, rising and falling in time with the hunter's every breath.

He really didn't want to wake him, but his arm was going numb and he didn't want Cas' neck to be anymore sore than it probably already was. His hand moved from where it was lying on Cas' hip, roving over the angel's shoulder to brush his fingers through his hair, coaxing him back to consciousness.

"I can hear your heartbeat."

The words were quiet and sleep-ridden. Dean quirked an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Your heartbeat," Cas repeated, squirming to get comfier, still refusing to move, "I can hear it."

"That's what you get when you're living, Cas," Dean said quietly, a little confused by the sentiment, "A beating heart and a birth certificate."

"No, I don't mean 'hear'," Cas corrected himself, sitting a little straighter to look up at the hunter through his hair, "I mean... _feel _it. In my head. It's constant." The angel drew in a breath, his eyes blinking lazily, "It's the same as the blood rushing through your veins and the air travelling through your lungs - like a tidal wave," he paused, "It's... more than overwhelming."

"Morning to you too, Cas," Dean said, hand straying to the door handle, nodding toward the motel, "Sam should be in that room, if he hasn't had a bitchfit and walked off yet. We should-"

He nearly fell off his seat when when the angel kissed him, taking him by complete surprise. He managed a muffled "_Mmph!_" before Cas' hand reached out to cup his face, pressing himself harder into Dean. It wasn't urgent or desperate like it had been the first time, and, inexperienced or not, it was pretty damn _good_.

Slowly, Dean felt himself being pushed against the driver door, Cas' mouth opening underneath his as he gradually shifted until he was sat completely in the hunter's lap. He ran his digits through his hair, catching Dean's bottom lip with his teeth - hard enough to hurt but light enough to be kinda... kinky. Pleasure-pain was such a strange thing.

He roved under Cas' shirt and over his hips, trying in vain to get some control over the situation - he didn't know what the angel was hoping to achieve, but judging by the way he was dominating he was definitely getting it.

"Cas-" he breathed between the kiss, his eyes squeezing shut when the angel nudged lower, laying a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his jawline, "We can't-"

Dean really didn't want to stop, and he didn't think he was going to either, but this tiny (_tiny_) voice inside his head was telling him that Sam was probably worried, and that he'd better let him know that he was okay and-

- and then Cas was fingering the zipper on his jeans and he really didn't give a shit about his little brother anymore.

"We can." Cas spoke between his kisses, grinding his hips in lazy circles - just enough to leave Dean groaning out the angel's name, yet not enough to give him any kind of relief. Fucking tease.

Somewhere along the line, Cas had shouldered off his trenchcoat - it was currently residing in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Dean could feel the angel's thighs flex slightly as he raised himself above the hunter, pressing his forehead to Dean's as he cupped his face. Cas hands were warm, the pads of his fingers callous against his skin. And those _eyes_. Dammit, he was gonna drown in that blue one day.

"Cas..." He murmured, guiding his hands to brush down the angel's back, "You're fucking amazing."

A smile raised the other's lips, teeth and all - an action so rare that it literally sent Dean's pulse racing. It was just so _perfect_. It made his eyes shine and his cheeks flush and it just looked so right. Like it _belonged _there. But only for him. Only he could see it - this small, intimate part of the angel. It was his to keep and to treasure and no-one could ever take that away.

Dean leaned up, kissing the angel again - he tasted like coffee, for some strange reason, and his lips were soft; welcoming and warm and God it was awesome. He hooked his thumbs through the other's belt loops and forced his hips forward, causing Cas to throw his head back and give Dean a smooth canvas of pale skin to kiss and nick and leave questionable marks all over. The air itself was getting hotter around them - in fact, he was sure it raised at least fifty degrees when Cas decided to pull off his tie and start unbuttoning his shirt, nearly bashing his head against the ceiling in his rush to-

"_Guys, what the hell?!"_

Dean felt Cas turn to ice above him, halfway through fiddling with his fifth button, the angel's breathing suddenly very loud in his ears. The hunter felt his neck burn, turning reluctantly to face the _fucking annoyance stood in front of the car._

Sam – stupid, gargantuan idiot brother that he was – was stood underneath the lamppost outside, light spilling over his shoulders, darkening his front and highlighting the _hilarious _expression splashed across his face. All open mouth and wide eyes - a look that just screamed absolutely _mortified_. Dean didn't know whether to laugh or start yelling.

He chose yelling.

"Dammit, Sam!" He snapped through the window, willing Cas back down onto the passenger seat - the angel refused to budge, frozen in place by embarrassment. If anything, he pulled himself closer, legs tightening harder around Dean's thighs , "A little _warning _might be nice."

"I didn't know you were banging an angel in the front seat, did I?" Sam retorted, his voice muffled through the glass while a smug little grin wound its way across his lips.

"Why are you even _out _here? It's like-" Dean checked his watch, "-one in the friggin' morning."

"Your engine isn't exactly quiet," Sam answered beginning to edge back into the motel, "When you're done doing... whatever it is you're doing, you're welcome to get another room or something because I can't deal with that all night."

In a second the younger Winchester was gone, leaving both hunter and angel to stare at the spot he'd just been standing in.

"That was... unpleasant."

"You can say that again," Dean agreed, still glaring at his brother through the walls. That hadn't been his preferred 'welcome home', "Bitch."

Warmth radiated across his neck a moment later as Cas dragged his thumb below his jaw, taking a moment to circle his adam's apple - the touch was strangely tender. Dean turned.

"Since he's gone, maybe we should..." The angel smirked, eyes darting down eagerly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks and making his ears go pink, "Continue...?"

Dean raised his brows, looking up and down the angel like he was seeing him in a different light. Soft eyes and, for all Dean knew, the sun shining out of his every goddamn orifice. In his eyes, he glowed - one of the very few lights left in his life. Castiel was all his, and Dean was okay with everything that entailed. 'Til the end.

"...I think I can get on board with that." He grinned.

Safe to say, the suspension in the Impala was never quite the same afterwards.


End file.
